


My Friend, The Red Room Host

by skeletxnqueen



Category: Boyfriend to Death (Visual Novels)
Genre: Drabble, Eye Trauma, Kinda, OC's - Freeform, Other, Reader-Insert, Red Rooms, deep web, implied forced autocannibalism, uhhhhh
Language: English
Status: Completed
Published: 2018-03-31
Updated: 2018-03-31
Packaged: 2019-04-16 05:23:43
Rating: Mature
Warnings: No Archive Warnings Apply
Chapters: 1
Words: 1,091
Publisher: archiveofourown.org
Story URL: https://archiveofourown.org/works/14157720
Author URL: https://archiveofourown.org/users/skeletxnqueen/pseuds/skeletxnqueen
Summary: Strade is probably the nicest person you've ever met. Of course, we all have our flaws. Strade's got a little hobby that, in all of your hundreds of conversations with him, he's never really told you about.And now you know why.





	My Friend, The Red Room Host

**Author's Note:**

> Your mind goes weird places when it's 5am and you haven't slept.

How long had you known this man? It felt like ages since you had first met him. Shopping for hardware is tough when you're new to living on your own and have never constructed anything in your life. You didn't like asking for help, as you've always had quite the independent streak. Still, it was confusing looking at all these various tools, most of which you'd never seen before in your life.

Enter: Strade.

A short stocky, rugged looking man with a smile that could light up the vacuum of space if he so desired. You saw him chatting away with another customer, and he seemed like he knew what he was talking about. With no employees around to ask for help, you decided you'd casually approach this man and ask him his advice. Once his conversation was over, you went for it. It seemed like the two of you talked for hours, and the conversation had quickly turned away from tools and hardware. However, you didn't leave empty-handed. Not only did you end up buying exactly the things you needed and then some, but he even helped you with your home-improvement from time to time! You were fast friends, and it stayed that way for years.

Over the course of your friendship, however, you had begun hearing things. Vile rumors that Strade was probably some kind of killer or rapist. It was all hush-hush, but everyone talked about it. He had a reputation. Nobody who had ever left a bar with him had ever been seen again. There might have been one or two exceptions, but they dared not speak about what happened. Ever since he had moved into the area, disappearances were a regular occurrence. There was no hard evidence against him though, and nobody was brave enough to actually say or do anything.

You weren't sure if you should believe it. He was one of the nicest people you had ever met. A great listener, very upbeat. It was hard to be in a bad mood when he was around. No way would he ever hurt anyone. Maybe you were naive for thinking such a thing. Still, you found yourself steadily doubting your trust for this man you called a friend.

Those doubts began building up to an unbearable extent until one day your fears were confirmed. Another friend, one far more internet savvy than you had ever been, left an urgent text on your phone. He said to come over immediately, that it was serious. Your heart racing with anxiety, you rushed over as quickly as you could. Your friend was in shock, his skin pale like he'd seen a ghost.

"So, you know how I'm kinda paid to write about things I find on the deep web," He began. Your brows furrowed in confusion, but you nodded.

"Yeah. Drugs, hitmen, fake red rooms everywhere... what's up? What happened?" You pressed. You didn't want this to be stalled. Whatever it was, you needed to know now. you weren't sure how much longer you could take waiting. He had a knack for playing with your anxiety like this, but this time somehow seemed different.

"I found something. Something horrible. How weak is your stomach?"

"Chris, you're scaring me."

"I'm not the one you should be scared of. Look at this."

His tone was flat and cold. You'd never seen him this serious about anything before. Even when talking about his deep web experiences, he always sprinkled a little humor in there to lighten the mood and make the stories a little more palatable. As turned his laptop around to face you, however, it all made sense. You felt a sudden surge of dizziness and the worst nausea you'd ever felt in your life washed over you. Had you had time for breakfast that morning, you would have vomited.

"No way. You're.. this is a joke right?" Even before you spoke those words, you knew they sounded ridiculous. You were in shock. Disbelief. Denial.

The image on the screen was horrifying. A man with dark wavy hair and a skull bandana tied around the lower half of his face with a thick German accent greeted the screen. It was Strade. It couldn't have been anyone but Strade. Even from behind the mask, you'd know that smile anywhere. Except now, that smile made you feel sick to your stomach. A girl no older than 18 screamed helplessly from behind him. She was bloody. One of her eyes was missing and the wound was fresh. She was covered in cuts and bruises, and her voice was hoarse. She'd been there a while.

From Strade's hand, dangled something bloody. He looked focused as though he were reading before he chuckled cheerily and made eye contact with the camera.

"Oooh nasty, aren't we? Jade, it looks like you'll be having a snack soon. You feelin' hungry, buddy?" He asked before turning to face the girl behind him. It was a rhetorical question. You knew he didn't care. This was happening live. The comments were going crazy. You could hardly read any of them with how quickly they passed as a new one appeared. You couldn't look anymore. You'd be sick. You knew exactly where this was going.

"Chris turn it off. Turn it off _PLEASE_ turn it off!" You begged. Your hands were shaking and you felt like you were going to pass out. Soon enough, you couldn't hear anything anymore. The video was gone, but the images were still fresh in your mind. You couldn't breathe. Tears fell from your eyes as you relived that terrifying video over and over again. You didn't see much. It lasted for only a few seconds, but it was the longest few seconds of your life. That girl was in danger. She was going to die. You KNEW she was going to die. You knew exactly who her captor was, and yet you felt so helpless. You knew you couldn't save her, no matter how badly you wanted to.

What terrified you more was that her captor was one of your closest friends. You knew you couldn't just cut him off. You definitely couldn't tell him what you saw. What if he killed you? He knew where you stayed; he'd been there dozens of times. You knew almost nothing about him. The more you realized this, the more it scared you. You'd known him for years and you hardly knew him at all.

How do you stop being friends with a serial killer without getting killed?

**Author's Note:**

> So I was going through literally every single page of the Strade tag on gatobob's dark blog, as one does, and I discovered some information that intrigued me. He's a really friendly and cheerful guy! Sure, this is evident in the beginning of his route, but it seems like he can be nice without any real ulterior motives. Outside of his little hobby, he's, in gato's words, "surprisingly well adjusted". 
> 
> This got me thinking. 
> 
> What if you were friends with someone like this for years and never knew what they were really like?
> 
> How horrifying would that be?
> 
> This little drabble doesn't at all do it justice I don't think, but I really wanted to get that idea out. It's all I've been thinking about. 
> 
> I threw a couple OC's in there just for the sake of being able to use proper nouns so this wouldn't feel so pronoun-heavy. Jade's an actual OC of mine I've never really worked with before, and is intended as a BTD MC. Chris is just some name I pulled out my ass.
> 
> Thanks for reading, sorry I ramble so much bye!!!!!!!!!!!!!!!!!


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